


Down the Hatch

by AccidentallyTheWholeFanfic



Category: Harvest Moon, Harvest Moon: Grand Bazaar
Genre: Crack, Gen, Humor, Other, Parody
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-30
Updated: 2012-08-30
Packaged: 2017-11-13 05:22:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/499953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AccidentallyTheWholeFanfic/pseuds/AccidentallyTheWholeFanfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Meet Hansel! Hansel manufactures his own beer. Hansel manufactures his own beer and gets plastered off of it. Hansel manufactures his own beer and gets plastered off of it, leading him to come up with perhaps the stupidest, most pointless and crude idea he's ever had.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Down the Hatch

Hansel Wagner was drunk as hell. This was about all he could process at the moment, and only barely. He was too focused on staring intensely into the deep, soulful eyes before him.

"...You're not Joan," he grumbled to the blank-faced chicken. His words tumbled out in a sloppy, half-chewed mush as he rolled over on the barn floor, staring up at the ceiling in discontentment. "Gotta piss," he announced to the world, beating his fist halfheartedly on the floor.

Seconds later, as his own words sank in, he began to giggle. He giggled softly, he giggled loudly, he cackled a garbled screech of mirth that brought him to cough up mucus until his throat was nice and sore. He had a fire roaring in the fireplace inside his house! And he was going to piss that fire right out. He was going to piss that fire out  _so hard._ And maybe he would re-light it using a match and his breath. Like a dragon!

Never mind that it was the middle of July - that fire was one of the few new constants in his life since moving to Zephyr Town over a year ago, along with the ability to freely ferment the most potent beer, wine, and liquor known to mankind. He had the freedom to sell it, and to drink it until he wasn't sure how many feet he had and the residents looked like pastel-colored blobs. He was slowly working his way towards perfecting an everclear recipe that could kill a sperm whale.

 _But_ , he decided,  _fuck that whale. I am a firefighter and I will do my sworn duty!_

As he clambered up, clumsily grabbing onto the fodder trough for support, a funnier thought struck him almost immediately, and all the effort he had put into standing up was for naught as he collapsed in a fit of hysterical giggles.

For Hansel had an even better idea.

\------------------------

Raul Rodriguez was a friendly man, who neither held nor bore the brunt of any ill will. He was an honest, albeit stingy, shopkeeper, and was well-liked by the residents of Zephyr Town for his cheap prices and decent merchandise.

And Hansel, failing to muffle his gurgling laughter as he gripped tightly to the springboard barrel by Raul's shop, was going to piss down his chimney. He was going to piss down that man's chimney like a scumbag Santa Claus.

"I'm gonna do this," Hansel breathed, pumping himself up for the heinous act. He was an amazing acrobat! A world-class gymnast, with precision and control like no other! He tripped while climbing the barrel, smashing his face on the lid and busting his front teeth in half.

Hansel Wagner felt no pain.

The night air rustled the trees gently, the only witnesses to the horrid feat about to take place in peaceful, sweet Zephyr Town.

With an inhuman bellow that promptly jolted all the residents awake, Hansel jumped, stumbled, landed on his butt on the lid, and was sprung into the air, screaming. His penis flopped, flapped, and wiggled madly about, his pants tangled around his ankles as his legs flailed uncontrollably.

His screams were cut off as he struck the edge of Raul's chimney, grimacing and grunting as he tumbled messily down the shaft and into the fireplace.

And there Raul stood... naked. Sultry. His eyes were half-lidded. His bushy black mustache hid a lascivious smile; a fig leaf did the same for his genitals.

"My pet. I've been waiting so long to make you mine... Come to Rrrraul," he purred in a husky baritone, reaching out a hand.

Hansel took it with little trepidation - and they were flying, through the air! The magic, tie-dyed skies of a summer sunset! "I have wings," he sang, a woman's golden soprano erupting from his throat. "For my heart flew to the sky when I saw you~"

"I have wings," Raul echoed in a youthful tenor, "for I'm an angel, I died when I saw you~"

"Why did it take so long," they sang together, "for me to realize that you're what I need?"

"And I'd never have known if I hadn't climbed up there to pee," Hansel finished, the last word soaring into a glorious climax.

"Wait, what the hell?"

Their journey through the skies halted immediately, and Raul wrenched Hansel's arm so the two were facing each other. He was livid.

"Piss on this!" he roared, dropping a screaming Hansel to the ground, far below...

\------------------------

Raul's high-pitched screams continued as Hansel's broken, charred body was dragged from the lit fireplace by a speechless Felix. The younger farmer's neck had snapped on impact, and the scent of beer hung heavily around him, rolling off of his clothes in sickening waves. There was no mystery as to the what - only the why would remain, with Antoinette Larrieux snidely offering up the theory that Hansel the deranged lush had come to rape Raul.

Raul's barrel was destroyed, as were all the other spring-loaded barrels in town. Felix had the fermenting windmill demolished, much to the horror and dismay of Isaac Sherman - who, nonetheless, grieved in silent understanding.

This is the story of how Zephyr Town entered into an era of prohibition.

**Author's Note:**

> ...So, summer's kinda still kicking my ass when it comes to motivation for writing, and I wanted to at least try and get SOMETHING out to try and turn the engine over, so to speak. But I HAVE also been on a big HM kick recently. As you might have guessed, I've played quite a bit of Grand Bazaar in the past month or so, and... well, this happened. This is what came to mind when playing that game. I'm not sorry. But, seriously, that game... you look 6, but can have kids and produce your own booze? I may as well name my farmer "Honey Boo Boo".


End file.
